


tenderly

by hoegeta



Series: moments [1]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Romance, Tending Wounds, Wholesomeness, hnngngng g FLUFFY, idk what else to tag this, shameless fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:34:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26073487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoegeta/pseuds/hoegeta
Summary: One touch is enough to cause his entire world to crumble all around him.
Relationships: Tifa Lockhart/Cloud Strife
Series: moments [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1892851
Comments: 8
Kudos: 132





	tenderly

**Author's Note:**

> me? not writing smut for once? unbelievable
> 
> this is part one of a series of little oneshots i wanna work on detailing the small romantic moments cloti may have on their journey throughout ff7. this is also extremely self-indulgent and im extremely soft for them i love them so much.
> 
> hope u enjoy! <3

Tifa’s pretty good at taking care of herself.

It’s not like he didn’t believe her words. He did. But seeing it firsthand, the graceful way in which she moves, an intricate dance choreographed in punches and kicks and pain and blood, it caught him off guard. He’d be swinging his sword, and there’d be a monster coming at him from behind, and Tifa would always be there to throw it away, as if he’s her partner in the dance. She moves with him, in sync, a perfectly-oiled machine.

It caught him off guard. In Nibelheim, Tifa had always been delicate. Small and dainty and all the boys wanted to protect her, flocked around her like moths would to light. They were drawn to her smile, how she laughed like a tinkling bell, how she lit up any room she entered. How her presence had flooded them in a warm sense of relief. How her eyes glittered at them like ruby fireworks.

Or, maybe, that was just Cloud. Coming back here, five years of his life marred and wiped away by the cruel hand of time, filled him with relief. Blending into Tifa’s little life here, how bright his world has now become when all it had been before was storms and darkness and misshapen, misplaced memories.

In the blur of his mind, Tifa is the only thing that remains clear.

She’s a good fighter. He knows that. But even she isn’t good enough to avoid being hit entirely. Blood sinks into his nostrils, the scent acrid, bitter, metallic on his senses. Tifa’s skirt is covered in dirt. She sits, grasping her ankle as she hisses, poking at the split of skin in her knee. The hard lines of her features, the frown crunched into her brow, he doesn’t like any of it. He’d left his healing materia back at the apartment, thinking he wouldn’t need it.

Stupid, stupid. Tifa’s in pain, and he can’t do anything about it.

He crouches down next to her. “Can you walk?”

Tifa’s eyes are a bit wide.

“Of course,” she tells him. “You don’t have to look so worried.”

Cloud breaks a bit, severing the hold her eyes have on him. He splutters, not sure how to respond.

“I—”

“I’m okay,” Tifa tells him, and there her smile is. Warm. Flooding his chest in relief. “I’ve been through worse, you know. I have been here for five years, after all.”

He doesn’t want to think about it, Tifa going through anything worse than this. And he knows she can handle herself. She’s strong. He’s seen it. She’s strong, and she doesn’t need anyone to protect her.

But damn, he _wants_ to protect her, to make sure she’s always safe from harm. Because she’s Tifa. Warm, beautiful Tifa, the one everyone wanted back in Nibelheim.

It’s different now. Does he want her? He’s not sure.

He watches her hand slide into a pocket in her skirt. Out she takes a small wad of bandages.

“I always keep these on hand.”

Gently, Cloud plucks the bandage out of her hold. She blinks at him, confused. He leans in a bit closer, analyzes the wound, pretending like he knows what he’s doing. He doesn’t, actually. He’s never patched up wounds before. Back at Shinra, he’d always had healing materia on him, or he’d go to the nurses. He never had to patch wounds.

He begins wrapping the bandage around her knee, his thumb swiping away the blood. It leaves a stain, a red stripe on her skin that disappears into the sheared nylon of her stockings. She hisses a bit as the bandage rubs over the wound, and he falters, his hands trembling a bit.

“S—sorry,” he stammers. “I’ve never done this before.”

“It’s okay.”

He ties the bandage. He looks up, and he doesn’t know how to handle her smile, the slight turn of it, the way Midgar’s fake sun paints her in a yellow halo. Has she always been this beautiful? He isn’t sure, but his breath staggers in his throat, and all he can do is stare. Soak up all of her, every inch, every detail, scribes her into the deepest parts of his brain. Because this is clear to him. In the bleary remnants of his world, Tifa is all that is clear to him.

Her hand comes up, and it’s so soft, the most tender of touches. He freezes, her fingertips warm but calloused against his cheek, worn from the brunt of battle. Gingerly, she brushes away the hair that covers his eyes, tucking it behind his ear.

He gives a slow, stuttered breath, drowning in the touch.

“Thank you.”

And that’s all it takes, for Cloud to feel like his world is crumbling all around him. For him to feel like he’s falling and falling and he can’t stop, can’t get himself back up. He wonders if it was like this for all the other boys back in Nibelheim.

One arm under her knees, the other on her back, he scoops her up from the ground, holding her as if she were his bride. Tifa stammers a bit, color burning a trail on the highs of her cheeks all the way to the tips of her ears. Her hands come around him, clinging to his neck, and he savors the touch, the feel of her, the soft curves of her against him. Like it was always supposed to be like this. Like she’s relief. Peace. Home.

“I told you I can walk.”

“It’s okay,” Cloud says, and it takes all of his strength to bite away the smile that wants to creep onto his mouth. “Marle told me to take care of you.”

Tifa gives a sweet, tinkling laugh.

And as he walks out of Scrap Boulevard, holding her close to him, he thinks that no, it probably wasn’t quite like this for all the boys back in Nibelheim. Because this is different. He and Tifa are adults now, starting over in a new world, a new life. Those boys would probably be horribly jealous of him right now.

He doesn’t blame them. It’s hard not to fall for her. Cloud’s learning this the hard way.

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading <3


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